


a little less like my father (and more like my dad)

by kesselrunners



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Aftermath of Overdose, Coming Out, M/M, bad bob is bad at PR, hockey players are allergic to emotions, media, zimmerfamm feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-25
Updated: 2016-12-25
Packaged: 2018-09-10 20:25:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8937910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kesselrunners/pseuds/kesselrunners
Summary: Bob Zimmermann has an ongoing vendetta against sports media and it's all because of his son. (or: four times Bob publicly supported Jack)





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sajee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sajee/gifts).



> me: shows up a week late with starbucks.
> 
> ummm call me santa? because it's midnight on christmas. merry christmas, ya filthy ficcers. 
> 
> i have no real excuse for not posting last week except family, family, family. also sharks and stars games. blame those too. somehow i haven't given up on the stars yet. i'm a saint, i know. anyways, the google doc title for this was "bad bob vs the media" so that should tell you all of it
> 
> disclaimer: check, please! is owned and created by the lovely goddess ngozi ukazu. the rpf in here is small. i know nothing about any of the people mentioned.
> 
> title from "david" by noah gunderson. it's a very jack song. go listen to it.
> 
> enjoy!

When Jack is just a baby, Bob wins the Stanley Cup again. Which, hey, is incredible in and of itself, but even almost a year after Jack was born Bob is still hung up on the fact that he’s responsible for a living, breathing human being, what the fuck. Alicia says this is because he is a hockey player and all hockey players are giant man-children who haven’t progressed past infancy themselves. She isn’t wrong, but he’s not telling her that any time soon.

What is also incredible, just in a terrible, awful, disgusting, appalling, something-else-in-the-thesaurus way is how, after the Pens win, a beat reporter decides that the press conference is the opportune time to ask the dumbest fucking question anyone has ever asked in the history of dumbass questions.

“Do you think your son will get one of those when he grows up?”

The thing is, okay, yeah, Bob should have seen it coming, someone just asked Mario the exact same question but fucking what _._

“What?” He’s pretty sure PR is going to beat him into the ground for this, but, “No, really, what the fuck?”

Mike from the Post-Gazette starts to repeat his question amid the excited chattering from the other reporters, who are like sharks at a feeding frenzy, and the incredulous stares from Bob and the other guys at the presser. Bob is _livid_ , more pissed off than the time one of the farm team call-ups on the Islanders insulted Alicia. He distantly wonders if his blood pressure is getting too high, which, probably, but he doesn’t actually care enough to calm down.

And would you look at that? He’s yelling. It’s probably the champagne hangover’s fault that Bob doesn’t really know what he’s saying beyond some variation of “get the fuck out and don’t bring my fucking kid into this”. Alicia’s probably going to kill him too. Here lies Bad Bob Zimmermann. He cussed out a reporter and was killed by his wife’s improbably high stilettos. Rest in peace, asshole.

When he calms down enough to think, Mario and Paul have herded him out of the room and into the hallway where the rest of the guys are lurking, Janine from PR is in the doorway using her laser eyes on him, Jaromír is telling him to shut the fuck up and calm down, and Randy, other-Bob, and Bryan are trying to tell the rookies to back off. That isn’t going super great because it isn’t just Jim, Scott, and little Paul trying to protect him or whatever is going through their heads. Frank is this close to going out on stage himself and spitting vitriol at Mike-from-the-Post-Gazette, which is something no one wants to see because there’s goalie crazy and then there’s Frank crazy.

Bob quickly makes his excuses and escapes to his car. When he gets home, Alicia does about what he expected, which is to slap him upside the head before agreeing with his careful assessment of “what the fuck” and disagreeing with his request that they immediately skip town and return to Montrèal. His mother calls him before the end of the night, which would be nicer if she weren’t so determined to instill some “healthy Catholic guilt in you, young man”. His agent and Janine from PR both call him to yell at him and even Craig calls, although that call is mostly judgemental silence. Even though he’s retiring like, yesterday, and doesn’t actually have to deal with Craig anymore, it’s the only call to actually guilt him into calling Jean-Paul and Janine back and agreeing to the press conference they want him to do tomorrow to apologize for his behavior at today’s press conference.

That one...also doesn’t go well. It isn’t Bob’s fault this time, except for how it totally is because he goes off-script.

“I would like to formally apologize for my behavior yesterday. It was uncalled for. Actually, I take that back. It was definitely called for. When my son was born, I asked everyone to give my family privacy and I’m asking you all again: leave Jack the fuck out of this. He gets to decide in the future if he wants to win the Cup. Not you.”

When Jack finds the videos sixteen years later, he doesn’t understand that Bob really means that Jack gets to choose if he wants to play hockey or not.

* * *

 When Jack is ten, he’s already making waves in hockey circles. Bob-as-his-coach is proud, but Bob-as-his-dad is worried. Jean-Paul has been getting interview requests, and the fact that he even had to hire an agent for a little boy is ridiculous.

Alicia says that they have no other choice, but Bob wishes that...well, that everyone would leave his son alone. The Montrèal sports media already sees Jack as it's darling. Jack seems to think it’s kind of cool until a reporter starts showing up to his games and practices.

It’s just an intern from Journal de Montrèal looking for a break, but even one person searching for a scoop on a ten-year-old boy is one too many people. Bob doesn’t actually notice for a while because he’s too busy, y’know, coaching. It’s not until Jack storms past him towards the locker room and a man approaches asking about Jack’s scoreless game that he figures out what’s going on.

And oh, but if Bob puts up with his son being harassed then he’ll be damned.

“What is your opinion on Jack’s scoring chances?”

“No comment.”

“But as a legendary hockey player and your son’s coach, don’t you have any advice for him? What do you tell him to motivate him to play better?”

If he doesn’t do something to end this with extreme prejudice he’ll be damned twice over.

“Get out of my face and leave Jack alone. Have some fucking journalistic integrity and don’t ask about things that aren’t your business at a fucking mites game. Jack isn’t me and I don’t expect him to be and you shouldn’t either.”

When Jack reads it in the paper the next day, he doesn’t speak to Bob for a week.

* * *

 When Jack is 18, he overdoses in the bathroom of John Tavares’ hotel room. Despite the massive amounts of NHL prospects in the room and Kyle Palmieri’s adjoining room, the only one to notice is Kent Parson. He calls Bob and Alicia at 2 in the morning after he calls an ambulance.

Of all things Bob thought he’d get called about the night before (or the morning of, whatever) the NHL draft, he never expected to pick up the phone to sobbing and a rushed explanation culminating in “he’s not breathing, I called 911, I don’t know to do”.

The next several hours are a blur. Sometime around 9 or 10 am, he has to sit in the hospital’s cafeteria with Jean-Paul drafting a press release.

_Jack Zimmermann was admitted to the hospital early Friday morning due to an accidental drug overdose. He is in stable condition but will be withdrawing from the NHL Draft. His father Bob Zimmermann would like to ask that you respect his family’s privacy in this difficult time and that you pray for Jack’s quick recovery. Thank you._

Bob isn’t really sure it was accidental, and neither does Alicia if her drawn brow is any indication. She hasn’t cried, but then she never really has. She is close to tears, however, which is closer to crying than he’s ever seen.

The only thing Bob remembers from that day is sitting in Jack’s hospital room, watching the draft happening across the city. He sees Kent, ghostly pale and with a pasted-on smile, go first to the Las Vegas Aces and swallows past the lump in his throat.

Jack never reads the press release.

* * *

When Jack is 26, he comes out. Him and Eric, together, holding hands in front of an entire room of reporters. Bob is crying, even though Alicia, standing in the back with Jean-Paul, still isn’t because she’s superhuman. After Jack and Eric leave and it opens up to the Falcs’ front office and Bob himself, the mob of reporters turns his way, nearly in unison, which is creepy and unnecessary and speaks volumes towards whatever weird pod people they are.

It’s mostly just questions about if he knew (obviously), if he supports Jack (always), blah blah blah. But then one asshole thinks it’s a genius idea to ask, “Do you think that this impacts Jack’s chances to win a Cup?”

“Jesus fucking Christ. Sorry maman, but _holy fucking hell_ ,” Bob says in response. “Look, if Jack wins the Cup, it won’t be single-handed because nothing about hockey is a singular effort. Jack is a damn good hockey player and I’m so proud of him that it’s making me cry. Look at me, I’m literally crying because of how much I love my son. Jack’s sexuality has exactly nothing to do with his hockey. If anything, he’s been a better player since he met Eric and he’s been a happier person. So stop being a goddamn moron. Jesus Christ.”

In the back, Alicia looks like she’s about to take his head off and Jean-Paul is miming shooting himself.

When Eric shows Jack later, they both cry.

**Author's Note:**

> ok so full disclosure? thanks, wikipedia, for the bizarrely in-depth articles on the 1991 penguins team and the 2009 nhl draft.
> 
> sajee, this isn't exactly your prompt, but i hope it makes you happy? if there's any mistakes or it just straight up sucks that is probably because it's literally past midnight and my usual bedtime is like 9:30 because i'm weak.
> 
> merry christmas, happy chanukah, happy kwanza, happy festivus, merry chrysler, merry crisis, happy sunday. whatever your cup of tea, have a good one.
> 
> as literally always, hit me up on tumblr to yell with me about jack zimmermann, tyler seguin, and hockey in general. it's jlzimmermannn but i won't link it because ao3 hates happiness and joy and easiness.


End file.
